The Mentor's Games
by Llexys
Summary: The book "The Hunger Games", from the point of view of Haymitch Abernathy. Rated T for swearing & violence.
1. Chapter 1

_Hello to everyone ! =)_

_This is my first fic in English, and it's the Hunger Games, from Haymitch's point of view. I hope you'll enjoy it. Don't forget that a little review would really be nice !_

_Enjoy ! _

_Lexi_

_**Disclaimer**__ : I do not own anything in the Hunger Games, not even Haymitch's bottles of white alcohol. Sigh._

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><p>Victors' Village. Eleven a.m. Fourth glass of white alcohol.<p>

Okay, it's a big glass - I guess other people would call that a jug. But I really need it to wake up - or rather, to forget my dream. Dreaming, that's something I have completely forgotten. Now, there are only nightmares, horrific visions. I'm forty years old, and for almost a quarter of a century, I've been drinking to forget what I see at night. The blond girl, Cherie, and her sliced eye. Maysilee, letting one last gargle out as the blood drips from the corner of her lips. Hunger. Pain. Cold. The scream of the district 8 girl, the one with the axe, when her little brother died in front of her - reaped together. I killed her myself. My mentor, a complete madman - I despised him for being a coward, but now here I am, drunk before noon.

Fifth glass - or jug or whatever. My intestines, my own intestines, that I try to keep inside me with my bloody hands. I've still got an awful scar on my stomach, even though the Capitol did all they could to save me - they wouldn't want the victor to die before the end of the Victory Tour.

Well, they didn't put so much effort in saving my brother and Primrose, my girlfriend, when they decided that I had offended them.

Today is the day of the Reaping. Two poor kids are going to be slaughtered in the Arena. They'll be picked randomly today. We've got a new speaker too, the old one's gone. Well, that one can't be worse than Joffrey Verelick anyway. That arrogant prick.

I mean, I know, I'm at least ten times as arrogant as he is, but I'm not some rich Capitol asshole. I mean, I won the Hunger Games.

Anyway, I guess he wasn't that bad because I've been told he had been promoted to the District 10. Huge breakthrough.. but then anything is a huge breakthrough when you've been working for the worst district for five years. If you can call that "working", of course.

I give up the glass, jug, whatever it is, and drink directly from the bottle. Let's not embarrass ourselves with good manners, shall we. Now that new speaker, it's a woman, her name is Effie Trinket. I know who she is - or at least I can guess it pretty fairly because she's obviously like all Capitol citizens. An obnoxious bitch with weird hair and an obsession for good manners.

Meaning that finishing at least two bottles of white alcohol before meeting her is just my duty. I have to embarrass her.

In two hours and forty minutes, I'm supposed to go to the Reaping. If I can still stand up, that is. I always have this small flicker of hope that if I'm drunk enough they'll send me back home, but they always keep me there. Ah well. Two poor kids are going to die again because of those Capitol assholes. I say it out loud : "Assholes". I don't really know if I'm swearing against the Capitol (not that anyone I love is at stake, they got killed years ago) or just because my bottle is empty.

I stand up to take another bottle, but my head spins. I steady myself with the table - not so long ago, I could drink a whole bottle and still walk straight, now I don't even walk properly - oh, the disasters of old age.

Then I drink a second bottle (it's easier than the first one, always) and go to sleep. In an hour and a half, the Reaping will start. I do have time for a nap, right ?

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><p><em>I hope you enjoyed it ! Is Haymitch how you pictured him, in there ? The chapter 2 is ready to go online but I'll wait a little, it will probably be online tomorrow or the day after that so that I have time to write chapter 3 in the meantime !<em>

_Please leave a review if you liked the story, or if you didn't, so I can try and get better !_

_Lexi_


	2. Chapter 2

_Hi__everyone__ ! __As__promised__, __the__second__chapter__of__the__Mentor__'__s__Games__is__online__. __I__'__m__sorry__for__the__delay__ ! __Ah__well__, __I__hope__you__'__ll__enjoy__it__ !  
><em>_Lexi__._

Okay, alright, maybe, but just maybe, this nap didn't get all the alcohol out my system. But I'm -more or less- in time for the Reaping, so the Peacemakers aren't going to have to drag me there. One good point for Haymitch Abernathy. And as I walk up the podium (these stairs are uneven, I swear they are), the mayor says my name. Hey, cool, that's what I call perfect timing.

"Hey morons", I mumble. "I'm going to bring two kids to their death. Or maybe not bring them, just watch them. And they are all going to die because of the Capitol assholes." Of course, nobody hears me, and even if they did, they probably wouldn't understand of what I'm saying anyway.

The audience claps a little, about as glad to see me than I am about being here. They know the kids are going to die and they think it's because I'm a bad mentor. I mean, yes, obviously, I am a bad mentor. But they would die all the same with the best mentor ever. They don't understand why I won't help them live, why I won't make any effort. They never got to suffer as much as I did. Getting disemboweled hurts a little. The kind of pain that never really goes away. At least those kids won't hurt for long. Not for years, at least.

Oh hey, here's Effie Trinket, that new speaker for District 12. Hello, Effie Trinket. She's got weird pink hair, it's outrageously ridiculous. Let's make her look even more ridiculous ; that could be fun. Immediately, I walk to her and hug her. Perfect, she's steadier than I am and we are lucky enough not to fall.

She's quite fast to recover from the surprise. Hey, she's even pretty good : I'm not even sitting down yet (helped by the mayor, of course - I can't really stand up by myself) that she's already picking the name of the reaped girl.

It's Primrose Everdeen.

I have no idea who this kid is, but there is some kind of shushed anger, and that's how I guess that she must be twelve years old. And her name.. Primrose. My own Primrose comes back to me and I flinch for a second. Her blond hair. Her green eyes. Tall, slender, beautiful. My Primrose. The girl that died because of me, twenty-four years ago. The only girl I ever loved.

The young girl who's already walking to the stage, about as steady as I was seconds ago, is very short. She's got blond hair too - just like my Primrose. But that's the only common point I can see right now - she's young, she's shaking, her blouse is too long for her and that detail really shakes me, I don't know why. And of course, they'll let her die, these cowards, without even trying to help her.

Or maybe not. I hear a scream : "Prim !" And in my mind, it's the District 8 girl who shouts the name of her brother, twenty-four years ago. I cringe as she shrieks the name again. Of course, some people scream sometimes when the name is announced. But I never saw any of these teenagers run towards the stage, push the reaped girl aside and say they volunteer. Well done, young girl, you're a first in the history of District 12.

I let out a smirk. I don't know if I'm laughing at her naivety or if I'm proud of her for her bravery. Anyway, a tribute is a tribute, about to die, whoever it is. I shouldn't feel sorry for her. She doesn't whine either ; she's cold, she's strong, she doesn't want to feel anything. She keeps her head high while another boy from the Seam -same grey eyes, same brown hair- takes the little girl away.

Nobody cheers. I wasn't listening to Effie Trinket, but I know that at that point, they are supposed to cheer. No, instead of this, they raise three fingers for her. I'd like to raise just one for the Capitol, hey. But that girl... She's better than all the tributes I ever got assigned to.

And that's when I see the chin of that girl, Katniss Everdeen, starting to shake very slightly. Oh no, no, she can't start blubbering around. She was good until now. I have to do something.

So, as fast as I can, I run - or rather, I sway - to her and grab her shoulders tightly, hoping that the shock will make her stop.

"Look at her ! Look at that girl ! I like her ! She's got..." I stop for a second, then decide to keep my vulgarity for later. "Spunk ! More than you !" I carry on, letting her shoulders go and pointing towards the camera : "More than all of you !" That was for the Capitol. They can't do anything to me anyway. They killed all those who mattered to me. Poor kid, poor... Hey wait, wasn't I supposed to keep her from crying ? Shit. Completely forgot that one - I was too absorbed by my little rant. I turn to her - or at least I try to, but I'm too drunk and I lose my balance.

My last thoughts as I fall down the stage are : "Come on girl, don't give up. You're better than that."

_Did__you__like__this__chapter__ ? __Do__you__have__any__comment__to__help__me__improve__this__fic__, __whether__it__is__about__the__story__itself__or__about__my__English__ ?_

_See__you__soon__ !_

_Lexi_


	3. Chapter 3

_And here is a new chapter for the Mentor's Games ! I hope you'll like it. It's been quite a hard chapter to write, actually the hardest at this point. Thank you very much to Nyx Nox for the kind review and to KatnissElizabeth333 for following the story!_

I wake up at the Victors' Village, in my bedroom. Oh shit, shit, shit. What the hell happened ? I don't remember. I mean, I know there was the Reaping yesterday and all that, but.. shit. The blood pulses too loudly in my temples. My head bangs horribly - right, yes, I fell and hit it. So I turn the TV on ; I know there will be a retransmission of the Reapings soon. Maybe I can at least try to see who those kids were - I think I remember that I liked the girl. But the guy ?

There's only one twelve year old this year at the Games. Good, I don't like to see them die. She won't last long - she's small, very frail, and from District 11. Chaff and Seeder, I remember them. They are good mentors, they can help her live a bit longer. I still don't understand why tributes always want to make their agony last, but whatever. Chaff is great ; he knows how to help the kids for fighting and defending themselves. And Seeder will make it more bearable to die - that's what she does. She's not that great for survival, but she is so gentle to her tributes that they feel loved until the last moment.. I'm not sweet. I try not to think about the tributes. Never, ever, feel any pity for anyone : that's how the Games work, and we mentors would become mad if that wasn't the rule. But Seeder, she doesn't care. She's the strongest of us all. I always admired her - she was already a mentor when I won my games. She won the 24th Games - that was fifty years ago exactly. I don't think she'll live much longer, but I hope I'll get a chance to see her at the Games.

The other tributes are strong. Very strong and bulky - I can predict that these Games are going to be a real bloodbath. Worse than the last years. But then, my tributes are strong too. There's the girl, Katniss : I like her. She'll want to win, because of her sister - if she loves her enough to volunteer for her she won't let her alone. I know that, because the thought of my brother did the same thing to me when I was in the games. She lost her father (good, that means she won't start bawling as soon as someone dies), her mother's a healer and she's not just skin and bones. She's got a fair amount of muscle, and I'm sure she hunts in the woods to get something to eat, meaning that she won't die of hunger in the Games : good. The boy is very strong, a baker's son, well fed, and he's young. He's probably always needing his daddy's help, I guess. I don't like him. He may have some physical strength, but he's unable to survive. Killing is good, but useless if you don't survive.

"Sir... Mister Abernathy..." I didn't hear this Peacemaker coming in my bedroom, and I simply grunt.

"Sir, we must go to the train station", he adds, seeming to think this grunt means "yes". Ah well. I stand up, the dizziness almost gone, and we go on our way to the train station. The Hunger Games are about to start.

Half an hour later, the train goes from the station. Bread Boy went to see me, and asked if I would come with the tributes and the escort, Effie Trinket, to talk a little. Of course not - I answered I'd go to sleep now. Do I need to add that before that, I'm going to empty a bottle of scotch ? I like the Hunger Games - they've got scotch in the Capitol.

But when I'm done with the bottle (god, scotch tastes so much better than white alcohol.), I can't sleep, so I decide to go and share their dinner. Opening the door, I see Katniss wiping her fingers off the napkin and refrain myself from laughing. I've seen her before, and she obviously doesn't eat with her hands. She probably wants to annoy that Capitol bitch as much as I do. And when I hear her horrible accent, I come in and ask :

"Did I miss dinner ?"

And I throw up my last bottle of scotch on the carpet. Shit. That was good, why didn't I keep it ? Well at least, Effie the Escort seems pretty pissed off, and with a smirk, I fall on the floor.

Okay, I didn't intend that. Well, the kids make a good job of bringing me back on my feet quickly, and I add, a bit surprised : "Did I fall ?". I feel the vomit on my nose, so I want to wipe it - instead, it puts some all over my hand and face.

The boy decides to take care of me, it seems. Maybe Katniss isn't as strong as I thought if she can't stand a drunk guy. But I must admit, I'm impressed when bread boy says he doesn't want help from the Capitol servants. Back in my bedroom, he undresses me without hiding how grossed out he is. Of course, he doesn't remove my underwear, but he throws me into the shower and starts a brutal, freezing waterfall. Okay, I may have deserved that a little, so I don't do anything. Neither do I react when he drags me to my bed, and I barely have the energy to mumble "you're a good kid, bread boy" before falling asleep.

_Here it is. Did you like this chapter ? A new one is coming soon ! =)_


	4. Chapter 4

Hey everyone ! Thank you to people who followed the story ! I'm really sorry to be so late for that chapter, but well, I hope you'll really enjoy it ! =)

The next morning, my head is banging again, but I didn't have any nightmare. I'm surprised to see that I'm all cleaned up and in my underwear, before remembering where I am and how Bread Boy (maybe I should try and remember his name ?) took care of me. I also find out that the banging noise doesn't come from inside my head, but from the door, and that a shrill voice is coming from the corridor.

"Up, up, up ! It's going to be a big, big, big day !

-I heard you ! Shut up now !" I shout to Effie Trinket, and she immediately stops banging. I can hear the tapping of her high heels going away.

When I get up, I realize that I am walking straight, and that my ideas are clear. Oh, I really don't like that feeling. I take a long sip of white alcohol before dressing up and going to take breakfast. I even have the surprise of arriving there before the tributes, but Effie's already there, and I bow down to kiss her cheek with a smirk. She then sweeps it for about ten minutes with her napkin, grumbling at my behaviour and sending me irritated looks as I mix my white alcohol with cranberry juice - tastes awful, but I said I _had_ to be drunk. I really need to piss her off.

"Ah, good morning, boy !" I call when I see Bread Boy come into the room, clean and fresh as ever. Effie tells him to sit down, and I can see how relieved she seems for seeing him and not being alone with me in the room anymore.

The boy takes a bread roll - obviously, Bread Boy is used to good breakfasts. As he examines the roll, I tell Effie in a low voice :

"Look at that kid. Of course, you wouldn't see that in the Capitol, someone eating the roll without even complaining about the fact that it's not even warm."

She starts muttering under her breath and I keep a satisfied smile - I think pissing her off has in fact become the new goal of my life, as Katniss enters the room. She didn't even bother to brush her hair, and seems tired, but she's still as strong as I saw her before. And when Bread Boy explains to her what hot chocolate is, I finally realize how poor she is.

She never got to eat a real meal, even though she's hunting. She eats squirrels and wild dogs because she doesn't have anything else, and hot chocolate is a luxury she never got to taste before. I thought she was slender and muscled, but now I realise how sunken her cheeks are, how you can almost see the bones in her hand, and her obvious absence of the curves a 16-year old girl should have. She obviously doesn't get three meals a day, that girl. I should have guessed it, given that she's from the Seam.

I'm not hungry - food spoils the taste of alcohol - but the kids eat as much as they can.

"So, you're supposed to give us advice," the girl suddenly says, and I raise an eyebrow at that. Advice ? Didn't she realize how much I don't want to give her any advice, or him for that matter, because I don't want to take any part in their horrible death ? I don't want to give them any false hope, so I just answer :

"Here's some advice. Stay alive", and then, strangely, I start laughing. It's not because I was funny, it's because indeed, it is a good piece of advice. If they follow that one, they'll win. And I'm on edge, that's why I laugh so easily. But Bread Boy doesn't seem to like that.

"That's very funny", he says in a low voice. And before I understand what's happening, he's smacking my glass on the floor, spilling my precious white alcohol. "Only not to us", he growls, and I suddenly want to test him. So I punch him as hard as I can and he flies against the wall. But he is strong, and he did have the balls to oppose me. Hey, he might stand a chance after all.

I reach toward the bottle, wanting to take another drink, but the girl's knife thuds onto the table. Now, I must say I am pretty impressed. They both reacted quite fast, and without any fear of punishment. These kids, they know what they want.

"Well, what's this ? Did I actually get a pair of fighters this year ?" I ask, truly surprised. And seeing the boy put some ice on his face, I suddenly decide that for once, I'm going to be a true mentor. "No. Let the bruise show", I tell him, knowing exactly what I need to do about him - make him look strong. "The audience will think you've mixed it up with another tribute before you've even made it to the arena."

"That's against the rules", he answers, ignoring me, but I don't listen to him, even explaining why he shouldn't put the ice on. I've seen him cry, and the whole of Panem saw him cry at the train station. Now, we have to counteract that terrible first impression and make him look like a true warrior.

"Only if they catch you. That bruise will say you fought, you weren't caught, even better."

I immediately turn to Katniss, asking her what she can do with a knife. The answer comes fast, and as Effie lets out a small shriek, the blade lodges exactly between two panels of the wooden wall. I must say I'm really impressed.

These two kids are the only tributes I've ever had that are worth the effort. They might actually get far in the Games, further than all the slaughtered children of these 24 last years.

"Stand over here. Both of you." They both stand in the middle of the room. Katniss may be beautiful, her eyes may gleam with intelligence, but she's too expressionless to be hot. The boy, though, is going to make all the Capitol girls crazy about him. Now that's not really a great thing if he wins, but he won't, and we'll get sponsors because of that, so it's okay. They are both strong, but slender. I mumble something about the stylists having a chance to make them look good, before taking a deep breath and telling them :

"All right, I'll make a deal with you. You don't interfere with my drinking, and I'll stay sober enough to help you." And before they start pissing me off with stupid comments, I add : "But you have to do exactly what I say."

I don't really know why I said that, because I don't want to mentor kids. But they are no ordinary District 12 kids - they are tributes who could actually make it, and as I throw a glance to Effie, I see her beaming with hope. The kids, though, don't seem very satisfied - but they must realise that they won't get anything better from me, because Bread Boy finally agrees. And Katniss, the intelligent Katniss, starts talking about the Cornucopia. Hey, we're not there yet ! First the parade. And the stylists. And the evaluation, the training... so many things. Those kids really can't wait to be in the arena.

I remember when we were at the Hunger Games. The depilation, the weird cream that irritated my skin, my hair cut short and the hideous miner's costume. Toma, the other boy tribute from my district, had told the stylists he didn't like their work. As a result, they didn't do any effort to make him look good, he didn't get sponsors, and died awfully early in the Games when he could have done a lot better. Now, I understand that the tributes must please, always please, everyone. For him it's going to be easy. But that savage girl is definitely not complying - she's the kind of person who holds a grudge against the whole world. And we all know that on this field, the Capitol is worth a thousand worlds. I don't think she should assassinate her stylist.

And that's basically what I tell them. Of course, Katniss starts : "But.." About two sentences after I tell her never to contradict me she's already trying to piss me off. "No buts. Don't resist", I simply repeat, leaving the room.

So that's it. Did you like this chapter ? Please tell me how you felt about it ! =)


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